


In A Differnt Time By Different Names

by qye



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Gore, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Mighty Nein, They're both around 16 or 17, Trauma, caleb and molly go by their old names, more tags as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-11-06 22:13:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17948105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qye/pseuds/qye
Summary: Bren peers into the cage, cursing his human vision and willing the fire in his palm brighter still, faultering as the dark shape moves, two faintly glowing red eyes examining him with trepidation and slight confusion.His heartrate quickens and he takes a step back as the figure inches into the light, revealing a young purple face and the curled horns of a tiefling boy. There's a moment of stiff silence before the tiefling pulls his lips to reveal sharp fangs curved into a pained smile."Hello there, darling. You lost?"(A past fic in which Caleb is still known as Bren when he first crosses paths with a young tiefling named Lucien. The rest is history.)





	1. Chapter 1

Bren realizes on his forth assignment as one of Archmage Ikithon's newest pets that he is becoming used to killing, and that thought scares him shitless. 

The task they had been given was simple enough- some Xhorhasian cult had taken up residence in an abandoned ruin just off the main road from Rexxentrom to Zadash- normally a job for the guard, if not for the strong sigils and wards undeciferable to the city's few warmages. Ikithon, never one to pass up on an opportunity to show off his three favored pupils, had sent them to...kindly said, "clear out" the ruin.

Bren had pretended to be just as eager as Eodwulf and Astrid when Ikithon had informed them, but standing in face of the slaughter to come, he becomes more and more anxious at the thought of his own lack of care for another's life- and the fact that he only feels anxiety and not guilt or regret drives further home his own mental instability.

In times like these, he often thinks back to their home- to the village life he had before he and Astrid and Eodwulf had been accepted to the Solstrice Academy- but it's hard for him to idealize the boring days filled with nothing but manual laybor and going to bed hungry. Bren has always been the type to overthink, especially when out on some mission for the archmage- and too often he considers where he would be if he had never left. He wonders if he'll ever go back. 

He stares up at the heavy door ahead and quiets his thoughts with a surge of adrenaline that the sick part of his brain reasons is better than anything a farming life could have ever provided. 

Bren rests his palm on the face of the door and feels his peers stand to his back, keeping watch as he quietly mutters the incantation to reveal the arcana of the seal before them. It takes him the minute to cast the spell and ten seconds to dismantle the magic, something his memory notes as a new record. 

At least killing is not the only thing that Bren is improving with. Wulf sometimes jokes that he would make a decent theif from the sheer amount of traps he ends up dismantling for the trio. 

Astrid is the first to push her way in, as she is with most things they do- Bren wonders if she feels any remorse for the things they've been doing for Archmage Ikithon. He recalls the last time he had asked her opinion after torturing and killing a young spy, and he remembers the laughs he had drawn from her when he asked if she ever felt bad about what they did. 

Bren never asks Astrid questions about morals anymore. 

He feels a small magical charge to his left as Eodwulf's eyes glow for a second. As much as Bren was the trap watchout, Wulf was the one who was most skilled with detect life spells- he often was the one to find the people they needed to kill. 

"Two down both ends of this hallway keeping watch- there's a cluster of seven or so through here into the main room. Three in the basement, too." Wulf's said in a soft voice, the magic dispelling around him. 

Astrid grins and closes her fist, summoning a small dager made of energy. 

"Well, shouldn't dally, should we?" 

Wulf chuckles lowly and Bren summons a small flame into his hand for light, nodding towards the left hallway. 

"I'll go left, and I'll try and sneak my way to the basement entrance, ja?"

Astrid nods and Wulf ruffles his hair with a snort. 

"Our little fire rouge." Wulf teases, eyes glinting as he begins to move his hands to prepair a spell. 

Astrid snorts and Bren doesn't bother hide his small amused smile, turning away and starting down the hall. 

"Meet us in the main hall when everyone downstairs is taken care of."  
Astrid whispers as he retreats into the darkness. 

Bren doesn't respond, instead allowing his brow to furrow, thankfull none of them can see his smile turn sad in the dark hallway.


	2. Chapter 2

The flame in his palm casts long shadows in the curved hallway, and Bren begins to wish he had brought the components for the nightvision spell he had found in the library last week.

Then again, that would have meant asking Ikithon for an allowance to go out and buy supplies, and the archmage tended to hex his pupils given any excuse. 

After the being landed with a paticularly nasty burn from an acid blast aimed at his back, Bren tended to find his components through other means. 

As he croches and walks forward around the bend he notices faint light on the stones of the wall and freezes, extinguishing the flame in his hand with a deft motion. He waits for a few senconds, but when the light does not advance on his position, he continues his crawl forward, twice as slow and cautious. Peering around the corner, Bren tracks the sorce of the light to a torch in the opening at the end of the hallway, in the archway of which he recognizes the shape of a humanoid- presumably the one Wulf had mentioned. 

He presses a fist to his chest, taking a deep and quiet breaths. He can feel his heart racing with an emotion he can't decern from fear or excitement, and stilling his shaking hand, he draws his wand, pointing towards the figure cast in shadow. 

He can't decide if it's worse seeing his victums faces or never knowing who they were at all. 

He flicks his wrist and feels the spell chanel through his wand, and he knows he's hit his target when the figure stiffens and raises a hand to grab its throat, quickly falling towards the ground with a faint wet gurgle. Bren reaches the shadow's side in an instant and catches it's fall, lowering the body to the ground to prevent noise and dragging them out of the lit portion of the hallway. 

He doesn't look at their face and ignores the sensation of the warm, wet blood from their cleanly slit throat soaking into the sleves of his robe. 

Bren turns his head and looks towards the torchlight, creeping forward again and peaking around the sharp turn. 

The hallway in this portion is actually carpeted, and Bren grimaces a bit as he sees the dark red splatter where the guard had once stood. 

Investigating more, the hall holds two doors, the expanse well lit by the occational torch and seemingly unoccipied. After a quick detection spell, Bren picks out a few alarm wards and an ice rune under the carpet that he avoids with minimal effort, picking his way to the door closest to him. He tries the handle and is a bit suprised as it gives without protest. He opens it the barest crack and peaks within. 

Instead of some sort of a room or chamber as he expected, Bren makes out the shape of stairs decending into the darkness and smiles slightly. 

At least he won't have to encounter any of the other cultists on the way to his task. 

He creeps into the stairway and closes the door softly behind him, starting down the steps and inching along the curved wall, eyes straining in the dim light. He wants desperately to light a flame, to have some semblance of vision or comfort in the dark, but he knows better than to go into an encounter with three others without the element of suprise. Bren isn't the most constitutional wizard, and he doesn't want to test his limits, especially against cultists with unknown arcane ability.

The stairs continue to curl downwards before opening up into a high celling chamber with a single candle lit on a table, thankfully facing away from Bren as he stops to examine the room. 

His straining eyes can make out the shadows of two more humanoids, one of which who appears to be preforming some sort of card trick for their larger companion. 

He can see far less in the room itself, only able to make out a oblong box leaning against the wall nearest to the stairs and the glint of metal bars covering some sort of cage in the room's wall. There also appears to be another archway in the corner- probably a passage to another chamber . 

Bren takes a deep breath and his mind races through spells, fingers fiddling with the edge of his component pouch absentmindedly. 

He can't kill one without alerting the other, so he would need something effective- and the larger shadow likely belongs to a fighter, so he should probably be his first target. 

Bren chews on his cheek and his mind wanders to his worse spells- the darker ones he seldom uses for sake of their torturous and often unnecessarily drawn out grisley effects, and his gut churns at the thought of having to resort to using any of them. 

Astrids voice scoffs in his head. 

"They're enemies of the empire- they deserve it, Bren. They're all lawless lowlifes anyway." 

Bren's breath is quick as he nods to himself with forced confidence and closes his eyes, pulling out a small wax figure from the bag and focusing on the larger shadow. 

"Do it for the empire." He thinks. 

As the screaming starts, Bren repeats this to himself, over and over- not daring to look up as he uses the flame in his hand to melt the wax figure. He doesn't open his eyes when he hears the smaller of them calling out the others name in panic, the female voice drowned out by screams. He doesn't falter when he hears heavy footsteps coming towards the stairs, screams crescendoing in his ears. 

He's shaking as he repeats 'its for the empire' and focuses, not daring to move until the wretched screaming finally stops and the wax is a puddle at his feet.

Bren is scared to look when the screams finally stop and for once he's glad for his lack of darkvision. 

As he begins to creep forward again, the female shadow is sobbing staring shocked at where what's left of her companion. Her eyes flick up to him almost as soon as he enters and she makes no attempt to draw a weapon, instead scrambling back. Bren's heart shrivles and he has to stop to remind himself of the woman's unforgiveable allegiance. He forces his hands to stop shaking as he steps forward and grips his wand. 

The woman sobs and tries to force herself backward more, stopping as she hits the wall. 

"Please-" 

Bren raises the wand and cuts her off with a flick of his wrist. 

"For the empire." He says, and his voice is far harsher than he is used to as he kills her too. 

He's starting to sound like Astrid and Wulf.

He faintly wonders if that's a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....  
> My hand slipped.
> 
> -Ri


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎵I want to see my little boy🎵

Bren stares straight forward for a few seconds, taking deep breaths to calm himself before he trusts his legs to carry him forward. 

He can't afford to get lost in his own head now. This mission is too important for Bren to mess it up with his weaknesses. He snaps his fingers a lights a small flame on his finger. 

There is a third down here somewhere- Bren turns his head to peer into the cage on the wall and deems it empty quickly, turning instead to the crate, looking for any sort of materials that would intrest the archmage before he continues his search.

The crate appears to have been fasioned into some sort of cabinet- Bren finds a few wooden dishes first, the presence of which doesn't prepaire him for the multitude of ceremonial blades and brands he finds on the next shelf. He examines a small knife carved with a few runes he recognizes- something about a serpent and blood sacrifice- and he decides after a moment to pocket the blade for further study. The next shelf disturbs him the most- its the biggest collection of items, each rusted and very much familiar. 

Bren knows torture instruments when he sees them. 

Bren swallows his building unnease and steps away, extinguishing the flame and stepping forward towards the doorway at the far end of the wall. 

He pauses when a glint of bright red catches his eye in the darkness and his head swivels to see the woman's body. He feels a bolt of discomfort as he takes in glassy eyes and blood smeared robes, but his curiosity outweighs him as the glow within her robes becomes brighter still. 

Bren steps forward and hesitantly kneels down, movements jerky as he uncomfortably reaches out and takes a hold of her lapel. He has to shove down the bile in his throat and he tugs the fabric away from the glow. 

As soon as he does, he's almost blinded by the harsh red light of what he can only guess is an amulet of sorts, symbols arranged with nine glowing red eyes in a circle around the rim. 

Out of curiosity he reaches out to touch it, but his hand recoils after making contact with hot and wet blood soaked metal. 

Bren steps back and wipes his hand rigerously against his robe, desperately attempting to ignore the bloody streaks his fingertips leave. 

He turns and speed walks towards the doorway, not looking back and trying desperately to forget the sensation of thick blood and hot metal.

This hallway leads to a pitch black room that immediately causes the back of Bren's kneck to tingle with discomfort. 

He curses mentally and strains to see any semblance of movement in the dark but quickly gives up as he realizes it's hopeless. He stands in the doorway and tries to find a sensible workaround. 

Bren is all too aware that walking in blind could mean death. Wulf had said there were three in the basement, and Bren had only fond 2- the third could very well be in this room, and the third could have the gift of darkvison. He needed to level the playing field- even if most of his casting relied on stealth. 

But he steeles himself and reminds his racing mind that he is completely prepaired to die fighting for the empire. 

Bren sets his jaw and lights the flame in his hand once again, flinching and readying himself for a figure to leap out of the darkness and attack- yet instead is only greated by silence and a complete stillness that sets him on edge. 

Bren steps forward, guard still up as he examines the room. The walls are completely lined with cages and the floors are a rusted brown color that stenches of iron- Bren has to stop another urge to vomit as he snaps his gaze up, focusing on anything else. He keeps his distance put peers into the first of the four cages, his gaze sweeping it and moving on when he notices nothing. 

Easing a bit, he turns his head to sweep the nest cage, and the third- stopping only when his eyes spot a vague dark shadow just at the edge of the fire's glow. 

Bren freezes in a panic that reminds him of when he was young and still afraid of the dark. His rational side tries to calm him- it could be anything, really- but despite this he's still breathing small paniced breaths as he forces himself to take a step closer. 

The shadow doesn't move, noor is it any more illuminated as Bren steps forward and wills his vision to adjust to the low light. He burns his flame a bit brighter in the meek hope that he wouldn't have to approach the cage any more than he already had. 

After a few seconds of standing and staring, Bren gives up on trying to see and creeps closer, willing the fire in his palm brighter still. He takes a deep breath to try and calm his discomfort as he stares into the dark. 

After a few seconds in flickering light, Bren eyes adjust enough to make out the faint shape of two eyes peering back at him.

He jumps back, letting out an undignified yelp as he lands on the ground. His flame begins faultering as the dark shape moves, the two faintly glowing red eyes examining him with unease and slight confusion. 

His heartrate quickens twice fold and he scrambles back as the figure inches into the light, revealing a young purple face and the curled horns of a tiefling boy that looks vaugly Bren's age. 

There's a moment of stiff silence filled only with the sound of Bren's startled ragged breaths before the tiefling pulls his lips to reveal sharp fangs curved into a slightly pained smile.

"Hello there, darling. You lost?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎵Here he comes🎵


	4. Chapter 4

Bren scrables to gain his footing, pushing himself off the floor and away from the cage, snapping his fingers to rekindle the light that died as he fell. 

The tiefling recoils as the fire bursts the room into color, shielding his eyes. 

"You're a jumpy one." 

Bren feels a flush in his cheeks and has to catch the sheepish retort that almost falls from his lips. He reminds himself that this boy is likely an enemy as well- a prisoner kept was often a former ally, at least acording to what the Archmage had taught the three of them. He swallows a growing lump in his throat and fumbles for his wand. 

Red eyes track the movement and the tiefling hisses softly. 

"So it's like that, eh?" 

Bren's hand freezes on the latch of his sheath and he takes a deep breath. 

He may be becoming accustomed to the screams and begging followed with silence, as much as he hated it- but they never talked to him. Why was this one talking to him?

His eyes snap up when the tiefling shifts, straining off the ground and letting out a low growl as he manages to sit, shoving back unruly and filthy purple hair to stare at Bren with a resigned look of defiance. As he moves, there is a soft jingle of chains and Bren's eyes drop to the gleam of silver manacles wrapped around both his ankles and wrists.

"Do you talk, or are you just ignoring me?"

Bren can practically hear Astrid yelling at him to just kill the other boy already, and his hand finally fumbles the latch on his wand sheath open. 

"Ignoring me then. That's incredibly rude, you know." 

Bren takes a deep breath and forces himself to take several difinitive steps forward grabbing a rusted bar. 

His sudden movement brings with it a string of infernal from the cage as the boy scrables away untill his back hits the corner furthest from Bren with a resounding smack, his movement causing loud jingling as the chains squeak in protest. For a split second there is a look of absolute terror in wide red eyes before his expression shifts to pain and he grabs his leg, even more infernal cursing hissed from his bared fangs. 

Bren is forced to stop in his movements again as his new position gets him a better look at the tiefling through bars, more of his form illuminated with the light glowing softly in his palm. 

What he had presumed to be a torn shirt is actually a collection of bandages, crisscrossing the expanse of the tiefling's chest- the newest looking of which is applied to the leg the tiefling curently clutches, huffing out pained breaths. 

What disturbs Bren the most isn't the bandages, however. It's the scars he can see underneath. 

The boy is latticed with pale purple streaks on almost every inch bellow his kneck, most of which look short and curt, but clearly deep enough to draw blood and cause what Bren can only imagine as horrible pain. His fist tightens around the bar infront of him as a steadying force as he follows his train of thought- healed scars in such a sheer quantity suggest far longer than a few months in this place. 

The boy isn't a prisoner, he's some sort of slave. 

Bren relaeses his grip on his wand and runs his hands through his thick red hair. 

"Schiesse." Bren curses quietly before looking back to the tiefling. 

As a slave, there is a great probability that he's innocent, and Bren knows he won't be able to live with the death of someone who could be innocent on his conscience. 

"Schiesse." He repeats, faintly aware of a confused red gaze on his shoulder. He tries to take a deep breath and thinks of his companions- what would Astrid or Wulf do?

Well, he knows what Astrid would do- he shakes his head and focuses on Wulf- diplomatic, intuitive Wulf. After a moment to collect himself, he immitates the way Wulf always straightens his spine and turns back towards the tiefling. 

"Are you loyal to the Dwendalian Empire?" Bren asks, voice stiff and forced. 

The tiefling's expression remains blank as he stares at Bren, and a small crease appears between his eyebrows. 

"The...who empire?" 

Bren blinks and he resists the urge to groan as he realizes that the tiefling may not know where he is- who knows how long he's been in that cell or captivity in general. Bren's mind races as he tries to think of what anyone else would do before he pushes aside the clamoring thoughts. 

He is a prized student of Trent Ikathon, praised for his magical potential and sharp mind, as well as a promising future warmage- he can do this. He can handle this. His way. A small voice wonders if "his way" will get him into serious trouble, but Bren hushes it in a second. 

He ducks his head and steps slowly closer, hands raised. 

"Okay, I'm going to let you out, and you've got to come. With me. Okay?"

The tiefling stares at him blankly and Bren begins to sense that this exchange is becoming a pattern.

"You're...not going to kill me?" The tiefling is far quieter then he was before, voice loosing all air of confidence in turn for raw vunerability that picks directly into the soft part of Bren's heart. Bren shakes his head. 

"No." 

The tiefling looks up at him and its strikes him suddenly that this is the first time in a while he's found hope rather than fear in a stranger's eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Looking around, Bren is unable to find a key- and as he looks, he feels his unease and frustration growing, desperately trying to keep himself from second guessing his entire plan. 

After overturning another basket on the edge of the room and finding nothing, Bren hears the telltale jingling in the cage as the tiefling moves. 

"Whatcha lookin for?" He asks, red eyes following Bren as he paces around the chamber. 

"The- key. It has to be around here somewhere." 

"Oh- you shoulda said so. Markus always keeps the keys on 'im." 

Bren freezes and drags a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He turns and looks up at the celling. 

"Please tell me that Markus wasn't... the big one." 

The tiefling blinks at him before tilting his head and nodding. 

"Oh, fick mich." Bren moans, kicking the basket he'd been searching. 

"Why? What's wrong??" The tiefling says, and Bren hears a jingle and a hiss of pain as he forces himself to stand and limp towards the front of the cage. 

Bren breefly consinders trying to lie before he accepts that the purple skinned boy will find out either way. He sighs and tries to find a delecate way of phrasing it. 

"I...might have, um. M-melted, him."

Bren watches the cage from the corner of his eye, watching for an expression of horror and waiting for the tiefling to freak out and recoil from him again. 

Instead, after a few seconds of silence, he hears the tiefling let out a bit of a startled laugh. 

"Oh, I love magic." 

Bren turns his head in suprise and sees the tiefling grinning widley at him. He feels a bit of heat light across his cheeks.

"I... I thought you'd be..." 

"Disturbed?" 

Bren's hands come to fidget with the sleves of his robe and he focuses his eyes downward.

"Nah, that man totally deserved it. Bastard's the one who broke my leg, you know?" 

Bren's stomach does a small flip and he feels as if a weight is lifted off his shoulders.

"It's a shame you melted the keys though. Can't you just- I dunno- magic the door open?" 

He hums thoughtfully. 

"I could always..ah...blast the lock but- the spell might hit you." Bren offers, his words lowering in volume as he speaks. 

The tiefling stands silently for a moment before he turns ubruptly and limps away from the door, scorching gaze off of Bren for the first time in the conversation thus far. 

"I'll take some burns if it means getting out of this place." He says, and the cheer his voice is bit more forced.

"Are you...sure?"

The tiefling gives him a look and Bren can see a small smile tug at his lips, nodding once before pressing himself as far from the door as possible. 

Bren takes a deep breath and levels his hand at the lock, feeling his a telltale crackle with energy as he mutters the incantation. 

He faintly notices the tiefling shield his eyes before he releases the energy at the door, blasting it off it's hinges in a loud slam. 

His head snaps over to the tiefling and he's relieved to see that he's still standing, looking warily at where the door lies on the ground. 

Bren moves to take a step forward and the tiefling imediately looks at him, drawn to the movement with what Bren can intuit as instinctual panic. He raises his hands and is carefull to leave the doorway open as he eases into the cage. The tiefling blows out a breath he'd been holding and closes his eyes for a second, seemingly calming himself before his eyes flick back to the young mage. He flashes Bren with a fang filled smile and holds out his wrists, jiggling the chains playfully.

"Any ideas, magic man?"

Bren takes a rusty link into his hand and examines it, finding the seam where the metal had been fused- he's relieved to see that the smithing is rather poor and probably won't require a spell from him. Judged off how these chains seem to be made, he could probably just pry them open with a dagger.

Bren nods to himself and digs into his bag, thanking whatever dieties that might be for finding a suitable tool on this trip- he rarely carried around material weapons at was. He finally grasps the handle in his bag and pulls out the ornimental knife he found in the last chamber.

The response from the tiefling is flash quick, and Bren barely has time to regester his feat being swept from under him as the tiefling darts away, frantically pulling his chains as he strains to get away, panting hard and fast and hissing loudly.

Bren curses as his elbow colides hard into the cage, catching himself before he hits the ground and looking over to see the tiefling's culprit tail slashing wildly. He opens his mouth to spit a comment before his eyes focus onto the way the tiefling's furious gaze is fixed on the knife. In a second, a wave of realization washes over him. 

"So this was all some cruel joke, huh????Let me believe I'm going to be free only to cut me to shreds again for your crazy fucking god-"  
The tiefling's words come fast and terrified and defiant and pained- Bren drops the knife and raises his hands in surrender. 

"I was going to pry open the chains, calm down." He explains in a pained snap, rubbing his elbow and watching as the tiefling's wild gaze flicks back and forth between the knife and Bren. 

There is a long stretch of silence between them. Bren doesn't dare to move, not wanting to end up on the ground again. The tiefling's breathing grows progressively harsher and erradic and in a sudden movement, he wipes his eyes vigerously. Bren's gaze drifts to the tiefling's injured leg and he can faintly make out that the boy's entire body is trembling. 

Bren may not be able to see perfectly, but he can infer that the tiefling is crying. 

It takes a few more seconds for the tiefling to speak between the pained rise and fall of his chest. 

"Just. Get it over with. Then get that thing away from me." His tone is short and clipped and it wavers slightly, and Bren nods in response.

He stays silent as he steps forward again, picking up the knife and setting to work, keeping his movements small and slow. 

He doesn't look up either as he slides the dagger between the links of the rusted chain, but Bren can feel the heat of red eyes watching his every movement as he works.


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as the chains are seperated, Bren turns and tosses the knife into the next cage, feeling red eyes on his back as he does. 

It's a shame, and he would have loved the chance to study it- but the tiefling's trust is the priority at the moment.

Besides, judging from his earlier reaction, Bren suspects the tiefling knows exactly what the knife is anyway. 

After a second, the tiefling looks away and begins to attempt to get to his feet, cursing lowly and clutching the cell bars in order to climb his way up. Wincing at the display, Bren offers a hand. 

The tiefling huffs and smacks his hand away. He turns and finally manages to get to his feet, clutching his left leg and favoring his right as he limps forward and out of the cage. Bren follows warrily, waiting for the tiefling to fall as he wobbles forward precariously. His fingers itch to offer help again, but he suspects that this one is the stubborn type.

This is proved when he steps too close and earns a hiss. Bren sighs. 

"Let me help you." He says, watching as the tiefling slowly starts to struggle his way to the doorway, left leg dragging on the floor. 

"I'm fine." Comes the snapped response, and just to prove it, the tiefling attempts to wobble forward faster. 

Bren isn't suprised when he trips over a basket, and he thanks his quick reflexes that he's able to reach the other's side before he smacks into the ground. 

The tiefling's hands fist into the fabric of Bren's shirt as he groans in pain. His horns bump into the other boys's chin and he leans his entire weight into him. Bren is struck by how warm he is. Distantly, he worries about the possibilty of infection or fever but he shrugs it off when he remembers something he read about tieflings having abnormally high body temperatures. Almost in reponse to this thought, the tiefling shifts, his purple arms wrapping around Bren's kneck in an almost hug as he uses him to regain his balance, effectively smothering Bren in warmth. He fights the flush that crawls up his kneck at the proximity of the barely dressed tiefling and pats the purple skinned back awkwardly in one of the rare spots not covered in bandages. 

"Ja, I don't know why I offered, you seem plenty fine." He mutters, looking anywhere else to preserve the remaining shreds of his dignity.

The tiefling growls and pushes off of him, tail flicking out as he struggles to gain his balance. 

"Fuck you, magic boy." 

Bren cracks a small grin before offering his arm again, and the tiefling grimaces and turns his back. The grin is pulled into a sigh and he steps forward. 

"Look, I get that you don't trust me, but we need to move faster and this is the best way." He says, hearing a bit of his frustration seep into his tone. 

The tiefling winces and looks down, examining the bandages and makeshift splint wrapped around his leg distantly. 

Bren rubs his face and swallows a groan. Astrid and Wulf would show no hesitation in killing this boy if he slowed the group down- and his current attitude would get him killed reguardless, fast or no. He would hate to have done all this to end up with the dead boy he tried to save on his concience anyway. 

He tries to soften his tone and body posture when the tiefling next looks at him, deciding to try a different approach.

"What's your name?" He asks gently, minimizing his nervous fidgeting to a small inperceptible tap of his finger and lowering his head to meet the boy's eyeline. 

Red eyes examine him for a moment before looking away and taking another limping step. Bren follows behind closely, watching for any signs of falling. 

After a few seconds, he hears a voice that almost doesn't reach his ears with it's low volume. 

"Lucien." 

Bren offers him a smile and something in him cringes at how fake he feels as he gently lays a palm on the boy's bicep, doing his best to ignore the flinch at the contact. 

"Lucien. I'm Bren. I have two companions who are waiting on me upstairs, and we need to hury to get back to them, ja? I don't want you to get caught in the crossfire if they come looking for me and assume you're a cultist." It's not his best lie, but Bren mentally pleads that the boy- Lucien- understands the risks and drops his pride. 

Bren suprises himself with how genuinely he wants this tiefling to live. 

Lucien stops and seems to consider this for a second, examining Bren in a way that almost makes him shiver at the piercing insight in his eyes. His lip draws back just a bit into a tiny thoughtful growl that distantly reminds him of the barncat Ikithon keeps arround for mice.

The tiefling sighs in relentment and tension eases as Lucien crosses the gap between them. He takes Brens arm, putting his broken leg between the two of them and leaning his weight onto the slightly taller human as he wraps his bandaged arm around his kneck. Bren releases a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and together, the two began to walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how short this one is, I accidently deleted this entire chapter from my docs before I posted it. This is technically only half of the rewritten 6th chapter, but I'm tired and am done with reconstruction for the day. 
> 
> Sorry again, and thank you for all the support!!!
> 
> Also, every comment makes my day, so special thank you to everyone who takes the time to write back at me. :)
> 
> -Ri


	7. Chapter 7

The tiefling is silent and warm against Bren's side until they reach the next chamber, when he jolts and stops. 

"Oh, gross. I think I just stepped in Markus." Lucien mutters, shuffling backward and causing Bren to stumble just a bit. 

He looks down and realizes the other boy is barefoot, grimmacing at the thought and feeling a slight sting at the back of his throat. 

Bren adjusts his grip around the tiefling's waist and grins sheepishly, trying to look reassuring and probably failing. "Ja, best step...carefully." 

Lucien levels him with a deadpan glare and Bren looks away quickly, instead beginning to pick his way over to the side of the room, carefull to set Lucien onto clean floor as he steps. Its a long and arduous process, but eventually they make it to the other side. 

Lucien looks at the stairs with such trepidation that Bren is sure he's going to stop them again- but instead, he just feels the boys fingers grasp tighter into his shoulder, feeling the faint sting of claws. He squints at the other boy, barely able to make out his red eyes in the dark room. 

"Ow." Bren says deliberately but softly, gently shaking the tiefling from his frozen state.

Lucien looks back at Bren and he can see a look of worry for a second- Bren feels the claws loosen. The wizard can see the moment he pastes back on his persona- his anxious red eyes become exhasperated in a second and Lucien huffs, rolling his eyes. 

"Are all murder wizards this whiney and demanding or is it just you?" 

Bren sighs and shrugs the tiefling's arm off and leans the other against the wall, ignoring the faint aborted protest as Lucien grips his shirt, eyes flashing in panic. 

"No, I'm sorry- don't leave me-" 

The red haired human blinks in confusion before he shakes his head, cutting Lucien's plee off and looking down to dig through his satchel. 

"Nein, I was just- I have a spell that, ah, makes things lighter. So I can-" Bren trails off and jestures vaugely towards the stairs. 

The tiefling's panic once again is pushed from his expression and he looks from Bren back to the staircase before letting out a low sigh. 

"Sure, I don't have any dignity left anyway." The tiefling responds quietly. Bren decides to ignore the bitterness in his tone. 

Pulling out a grey feather and muttering an incantation, Bren steps closer and presses the feather into Lucien's palm, eyes closed as he focuses. He is faintly aware of the tiefling settling incomfortably under the weight of magic, but he ignores it and completes the spell

Time for that later.

Once the spell is complete, Bren opens his eyes and lets his vision flick up to where the tiefling's expression is shrowded in darkness. 

"Would you prefer to carry me potato sac style or like a maiden being rescued from a tower?" The tiefling asks with a forced mirth and lightness in his tone. Bren is aware of the blush that dusts his cheeks but chooses to ignore it in favor of turning his back and crouching, waving for the other boy to climb on. He hears a heavy sigh. 

"Seriously?" 

Bren's deffinatly blushing now. 

"I dunno, its easiest for me this way and I would have my hands if I were to fall-" 

"My leg is broken, I'm not using it to grip around your boney ass toothpick of a torso."

"Ja, well I don't see you coming up with ideas-" 

The tiefling limps over with suprising speed and slings a hand around Bren's shoulder before making eyecontact and kicking both his legs upwards before Bren can protest. In reflex, Bren catches the two mostly bare purple legs before they smack downwards and instinctually braces himself for weight that never really comes. He thanks the spell for the ease of which he handles Lucien's weight, but is also painfully aware of how light he would have been reguardless. 

The tiefling had barely any fat on his body and juding from the barest traces of remaining weight, Bren can only guess that the purple skinned boy has to weight less than 100 pounds. 

Despite Bren's silent reflecting, Lucien is still grinning at him dashingly when he looks at the other's face. 

"I think I make a radiant bride." He jokes with a wink, and Bren can feel a small laugh bubbling under his skin that he forces back down, only leaving the trace of a small smile at the joke. 

Bren is careful not to move Lucien's leg as he adjusts his grip, looking back briefling into the darkness before he starts upwards.

All the way up, he's rehersing his explination to Astrid and Wulf and hoping to the gods that this works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to everyone who's commented- it's a little bit of joy in my pretty dismal life, and I can't thank you enough. 
> 
> :-)
> 
> Anywho, hope you have enjoyed reading!
> 
> -Ri


	8. Chapter 8

Once they reach the top of the stairs, Bren doesn't put the tiefling down- and even when he hears the sound of screams echoing down the hallway, the brief moment in which he considers setting the other boy down is brought to a screaching halt as he feels Lucien's entire body tense in fear at the sound. 

He waits a few seconds at the top of the stairs, listening for the rucus to die down considerably before he pokes his head out. After a second of all clear, he rounds the corner and heads towards the sound. He breathes out slowly as he dreads the coming conversation in his mind- Astrid wasn't going to be happy, and Wulf was going to be silently dissaproving and-

"What are you doing!!??" Comes a sharp hiss coupled with a rough tug on his ear. 

Bren hisses in pain and crains his kneck in a half assed attempt to shake off Lucien's grip. 

"We have to get AWAY from the noise, you idiot-" 

Bren shakes his head and sighs. 

"Relax, Wulf and Astrid will have taken care of anyone left. I'm not taking you into any danger." 

Lucien' red eyes are filled with both fury and terror as he stares at him with disbelief.

"Is that supposed to be comforting???"

The cornered-wild animal look in his eyes reminds Bren of the criks he has interrogated and tortured in the past- a thought he pushes back down as he stares forward. 

"Please, don't say anything against the empire, while we're in there, okay?" 

He sounds so pathetic to his own ears, and he's unsure if the other boy even heard his soft and pleading tone. 

As they round the corner, Bren doesn't quite notice or acknowledge the coppery smell of blood until he feels Lucien gag in his arms. 

Despite his pity for the boy, he keeps his stare straight forward and his hold on Lucien tight as he approaches the door to what's most likely the main chamber. He  distantly recognizes another cultist's body where it's been half fazed into a wall and party cut in half. He barely reacts- but the tiefling gasps and tightens his curling grip around Bren, dry heaving as he squeazes his eyes shut.

"Mother of mercy." 

Bren feels a strange emptyness at the broken words and he quickly turns the corner, eager to remove Lucien and get the hell out of this place. 

As soon as he steps through the doorway, he hears the desperate sobs of a grown man and finds himself face to face with Astrid, feeling a cold dagger at his throat for a split second before she realizes it's him. He takes a brief moment to observe the crimson stained chamber- eyes landing on Wulf before he can focus on anything in paticular- Wulf, who is crouched over the only alive priest near the raised alter-like portion of the room. They make eyecontact as Wulf looks up, and he sees warmth and relief in his friend's eyes, and he can hear the beginning of a greeting on Astrid's tone- but then Wulf's gaze drops and everything freezes.

There is silence between the three of them, the only sounds being Lucien's quickened gasps for breath and the priest's incoherant babblesfor mercy. Bren feels Lucien curl into his chest, his panicked breaths hot on his shirt as he seems to try and burrow away from the gruesome surroundings of the room. 

Wulf is the first to break the stunned silence, his words coming in a low hiss. 

_"Bren, what the hell is this??"_

Bren takes a step back from the sheer ferocity of Wulf's zemnian, and the carefully preconstructed explanation slips from his mind. 

It's only when he hears the familiar tinkle of Astrid summoning a rather large ice spike aimed directly at Lucien when he's spurred to act, gripping the boy protectively and turning subtly so his frail form is unreachable by Astrid's magic.

_"He's an innocent- I found him in a cage in the basement, I have to help him-"_

He's cut off when he hears Astrid's hysterical laugh. 

_"You what??? Bren, an innocent???? Are you serious??"_

_"I thought you were over this."_ In sharp contrast to Astrid's tone, Wulf sounds almost calm, but the edge in his voice hurts something in Bren's chest. Bren steeles himself and makes eyecontact with them both, forcing down the raw emotion he can feel threatening his ability to make an argument. 

He feels Lucien thrash and looks down to find the other boy looking widly between the two others and Bren, panic even more elivated every more word they speak in Zemnian. 

He doesn't think when he switches to common, he just does. 

"This boy has been some kind of ritual slave, and I see no point in killing him- I would like to take him to Rexxentrom and drop him off to be healed." 

Wulf's eyes widen slightly and Astrid and him exchange a quick glance. Lucien is to the point of hyperventalation in his arms and Bren is torn between helping him and extending what he knows is his currently dismal point for Lucien's life- until the tiefling suddenly goes slack in his grip. 

For a second he's terrified that one of his friends has killed the boy- before he notices the continued but slowed pulsed and steady rise and fall of his chest. Bren remembers how to breathe. 

____He looks over and sees Astrid, eyes burning bright gold as she stares at them both._ _ _ _

____Her stoic, focused expression slips as he meets her eyes and she snorts, shifting so her hands are on her hips._ _ _ _

____His eyebrows raise in a question and she roles her eyes._ _ _ _

"We don't need both of you having a panic attack before you expain exactly what the fuck is going on. So, talk. _Now_." 


End file.
